LT. ALLEN: [Through gritted teeth] I’m not as good at spotting things as a fucking Gordon, Cap’.

RIVERS: Both of you calm down! We’re closing in on the target!

[Another jet zooms past the squad]

ALLEN: That looks like a Rammskie MiG!

BOSA: YOU-AH SEE IF HE’SA SINGLE?!

RIVERS: This is no time for your heathen homosexual questions, Lieutenant! [To RADIO] Ghost Audience, what are our orders?

RADIO: [Crackling] The target has entered our airspace and could detract from our local revenue. Command has cleared you to engage.

BOSA: IT’SA GO TIME!

RIVERS: Good call, Gordon! Let’s form up on his tail!

[The fighters swing around and close in on the target]

RIVERS: Steady… Steady… I’ve got a lock!

[The jet suddenly begins to spin uncontrollably]

RIVERS: We’re caught in his cashwash Gordon! I’ve lost control!

ALLEN: Mayday, mayday, Phil’s in trouble!

BOSA: HE SPIN-AH LIKE A PIZZA PIE, OUT TO SEA!

RIVERS: EJECT, GORDON! EJECT!

RIVERS: [As parachute deploys] WHY GOD, GORDON!!!!

INTERIOR – TRIAL JUDICIARY, MIRA MAR, CA – ONE WEEK LATER

TELESCO: The spin was induced by the disruption of air flow into the starboard engine by stray $100 bills. This disruption stalled the engine, which produced enough yaw rate to induce a spin… which was unrecoverable. There was no way Captain Rivers could see or avoid the cashwash.

LYNN: Further, the death of LTJC Gordon was due to a malfunction with the Spanos brand ejector seat. If only the taxpayers had paid for the initial design, components, testing, quality control and labor, he might still be here today.

TELESCO: The Board of Inquiry finds that Captain Rivers was not at fault in the accident. His record will be cleared. He’s restored to flight status without further delay. These proceedings are closed.

LYNN: Captain, the Rear Admiral has also requested an audience…

INTERIOR – REAR ADMIRAL’S OFFICE – MOMENTS LATER

RIVERS: [Saluting] You wanted to see me, sir?

RDML. SPANOS: At ease, Captain. I always forget how you fly boys treat me when I put on my dress blues.

SPANOS: You know, it’s not the uniform that makes me an Admiral. It was Daddy that did!

RIVERS: [Condescending] Yes, sir, I remember.

SPANOS: And in light of your recent discovery of Rammsian fighters entering our air space, I am worried about this team’s financial future.

RIVERS: What do you mean, sir?

SPANOS: The public won’t give me any more money! They keep saying that they want it! Bunch of peasants and thieves, never worked a day in their lives! And now that the Rammsians are on our doorstep, they’re going to start funneling more of our money away! Unless we do something about it.

RIVERS: Do you have a plan of attack, sir?

SPANOS: We’re going to destroy them from the inside! First, we need to relocate our entire operation.

RIVERS: Entire operation? But sir, we’re sworn to serve the citizens of San Diego!

SPANOS: Nonsense! The cheap San Diego bastards will still be protected, Don’t worry about it. They’ll be fiiiine.

RIVERS: What about the cost of moving? We’re using hardware and technology from the late 80’s! And the organization wouldn’t even pay for a coffin for Gordon’s funeral!

SPANOS: We sent some very lovely flowers!

SPANOS: And besides, we’ll be moving INTO the Rammsian base! Sure, it’ll be on their terms, after it’s built, but it’ll save us a ton of cash in the end. And then, after we’re entirely entrenched and out of other options, we’ll just take them over somehow! How hard could it be?

RIVERS: Rear Admiral, this makes no sense! It sounds like suicide!

SPANOS: YOU’LL DO AS I SAY CAPTAIN! [Clears throat] Ahem, besides, it’s not like I need your sign off. I’ve already gone over the plan with the Lieutenant here.

TELESCO: Everything, sir. Morale among the troops is at an all time low. The locals have not taken kindly to us moving into the area and the men have been unable to safely go off base to blow off some steam. The local women want nothing to do with them all the same and I’m afraid they’ve… lost that loving feeling, sir.

SPANOS: Damnit! Can’t we just throw a little money at the problem?! Find someone to take their breath away?!

TELESCO: Well, funds were actually my second point. We’ve already spent the budget the Joint Chiefs allocate for us every year and we’ll have to dip into private reserves for that.

SPANOS: If the men performed better, we wouldn’t be in this situation!

RIVERS: Sir, we have been grounded since moving into enemy territory. We can’t even get our planes off the ground in order to deal with the “envoy” that San Diego sent to terrorize us!

SPANOS: Lieutenant! The intel you provided said that we’d retain our old territory while making new ground here!

TOMLINSON: Yes sir! Whatever you say, sir!

SPANOS: Ah, it’s no use. We’ve tried everything. I didn’t want to have to do this, but we’ve been left with no choice! [Presses a large yellow button on top of his desk]

[The bookcase across the room swings open revealing a hidden advanced looking chamber]

Low Commander of the Super Soldiers is a native North County San Diegan with an affinity for the Padres, beer, whiskey, punk rock, video games and the end of days. If you eat a fish taco with a fork in his presence, you may lose your hand.

Goddamn. Well done. So what I hear you saying is that Bosa wants to play some beach volleyball. That would probably injure about ten players.

Fuck this team indeed. BOLTMAN’s wrath is too good for them.

Fun fact: as a kid we lived really close to Mira Mar and I was a huge top gun fan. I’d see jets flying overhead all the te, close enough to read the identification letters under their wings. We’d watch the blue angels practice every time they’d be in the area. Once the SR-71 turned around over canyon behind our house and it was the greatest moment of my life to that point.

The DFO Promise

We are The Commentist Party, refugees from another site that have banded together to create a safe place to hang out. This is a nice site, a place for civil discourse and dick jokes. If you want to stay at a fun joint with liveblogs during football games and a great community, we’re ecstatic to have you. Unfortunately, if you leave offensive material in the comments, we’ll have to send you home. Commenting here is a privilege, not a right.

The name of the Washington Football Team is a grating slur that pisses us off every time we see it. So now, they are the Washington [*Redacteds] in the comments.

Sign In or Whatever

DFO FAQ

Q: I signed up for your dumb site, why can't I comment?
A: We approve every Commentist by hand, because we're looking to create a fun community here.
Q: I jumped through your sign-up hoops and you approved me - why isn't my comment there?
A: We also approve the FIRST comment by each Commentist. That weeds out a lot of the spammers that irritate everybody. It sucks, but that's the world we live in.

Archives

Archives

×

Search for:

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.